Jesus Preaches in Galilee

Grace in the Gospels: Mark 1:35-39 & Luke 4:42-44

It was the kind of morning that feels like a deep breath. The sky still held a veil of lavender before the sun cracked open the day. I remember the quiet, the way it settled into my bones before the world woke up. The air was cool, and the ground still damp from the night, as if creation had exhaled while we slept. Before the coffee, before the scroll of headlines, and the weight of the to-do list—I slipped outside, barefoot on the porch, craving stillness.

Sometimes I imagine Jesus like that, slipping out before dawn. No entourage. No miracle to perform. No parables. Just breath and silence and space.

Mark tells us that,

Early in the morning, well before sunrise, Jesus rose and went to a deserted place where he could be alone in prayer.
Mark 1:35 CEB

And Luke echoes the same rhythm; Jesus withdrawing, finding space apart. What I love is that this happens right after the momentum starts. People are flocking to Him. He’s healing and teaching and casting out demons. The town is buzzing. There is no shortage of need.

And yet, He steps away.

I think of the disciples chasing Him down, breathless. “Everyone is looking for you!” they say, like they’re trying to remind Him of the schedule, the press, the people waiting.

But Jesus doesn’t rush back. He doesn’t apologize. He simply says, “Let’s go somewhere else… that is why I have come.”

It is one of the most human and holy things I’ve ever read.

When the crowds grow and the calendar fills, I tend to lean in harder. Answer more texts. Say yes more than I should. Check one more thing off before bed.

But Jesus does the opposite.

He wakes up and walks away, not to escape, but to connect. Not to avoid people, but to anchor Himself in purpose. He needed the quiet to remember who He was and why He came.

I don’t know about you, but I forget that all the time.

I forget that stepping away isn’t selfish. That stillness is strength. That solitude isn’t laziness, it’s the holy ground where clarity grows.

There’s something in that early morning scene that calls to me now more than ever. Maybe because the noise feels louder these days. Maybe because the pull to be everywhere, all at once, is real.

But what if the invitation is different?

What if the most important thing you do today isn’t the email you send or the meal you cook or the meeting you attend, but the moment you step outside before sunrise, barefoot and quiet, and remember who you are?

Jesus knew what was coming. The needs, the miracles, the people pressing in. And He still chose the stillness first.

So maybe that’s the practice we need: to rise early, to seek quiet, to go out and pray before the day begins. Not for what we’ll do, but for who we are becoming.

Because sometimes, the most sacred calling starts in the silence.

Gracefully yours,

Food, faith & a little chaos—where spills happen, laughter is required, and grace is always on the menu. Let’s connect — visit my bio site. Affiliate links may be included, thanks for supporting my work (and my coffee habit).

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